


No One Else

by r0nj4



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:20:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0nj4/pseuds/r0nj4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Brienne and Tormund, as I imagine it, after their meeting at Castle Black. Spoilers for season 6 of Game of Thrones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had parts of this story finished for months, but have been too nervous to post anything. If I don't post it now I probably never will. This is my first fanfic, and english is my second language. Comments and critique is always welcome, although most of the storyline is already set. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Tagged explicit for future chapters.

The view from the wall was magnificent, Brienne could not deny it. A white landscape lay for miles affront her, and looking down - north of the wall - she felt a sudden dizziness struck her. She had heard the men of the Night’s Watch speak of the hidden terrors beyond the wall, but found it difficult to believe their words. Talks of the dead coming alive, and a never ending winter, didn’t scare her. She had never been easily scared. _Rumors are nothing compared to standing face to face with a raging bear._

Without her noticing, the lift from down below at Castle Black had risen and she was not alone. The view had taken ahold of her thoughts, and for once in her life, her guard had been completely down. 

”I am to take you down”, a man said from behind.

It was that red-haired one. Almost as tall as her, with the beard, and the stare which made her feel very odd. Brienne didn't care of his height, she could easily strike him down with her sword if it ever came down to it, she thought as she placed her hand over the sword resting at her hip. 

”I am to take you down, _milady_ ”, she corrected him. 

She’d never cared much for her own title as much as those of others, but she wouldn’t have a wildling offend her. 

”Oh, for fuck’s sake”, the man said. 

She didn’t respond. Instead she followed him into the lift, walking behind him as if she didn’t trust him. 

”I don’t bite”, he said with a smirk as they entered the lift. 

What an odd smile, she thought. Like the grin of an animal. Of course, he was more of an animal than a man in Brienne’s eyes. She had heard the tales of wildlings since childhood, of how the Wall was built to protect the realm from them. And never in her life had she imagined meeting one, let alone standing beside one atop the Wall itself. He certainly reminded her of an animal, but all the same, he was more a man than any she’d seen before. The thought made her feel the dizziness return. 

”I am fully aware of that”, she answered.

”What is it then?”

”It’s just…”, she hesitated. ”I’ve never met a wildling before.”

”I, _milady,_ am a man of the Free Folk. But that seems very hard for you Southrons to understand.”

He corrected her, as she had corrected him and as the lift landed at Castle Black she could feel the color of her face change to a bright red. 

The man, named Tormund, had taken her down by the orders of Jon Snow. The Wall was no place for a southerner at night fall, he had stated. Instead she was to dine with the Jon Snow, Lady Sansa, Podrick and Tormund. She could feel the gaze of the wildling, or Free Folk as he had called himself, during the course of the meal. Staring at her like she was nothing but a piece of meat. She wondered if he'd never seen woman so big. If he was disgusted. He didn't look disgusted though. His look said something completely else, but Brienne couldn't understand it. She couldn't understand him.

 

By the end of dinner Brienne felt a sudden fatigue. She hurried back to her chambers, if you could even call them so. She was pleased to be spared the burden of sharing a room with someone else, but the small, damp, and cold room wasn’t all very pleasant. Of course Brienne had come accustomed to tents, mud, and the musky smell of sweat, blood, and battle after traveling the roads with her squire. Yet she was confounded by the low standards the Night’s Watch had to live their lives in.

Brienne was just about to remove her woolen coat as she heard a knock on the door. 

”I have to tell you something”, Tormund had entered the room without being invited.

Brienne was utterly confused. Tormund sat down on her bed, as if he had the right to whatever he wished. 

”What?”, she asked him sourly while removing her cloak. ”I’m about to undress, you should leave.”

”You don't like me. I can see it. But you must know. Before you leave this Crow’s nest of a castle you have to understand”, he spoke in a rush and had buried his face in his palms. 

His hands were very large, Brienne noted. 

”What is it I must know? Can’t it wait until dawn?”, she was growing tired of the Free man sitting in front of her. 

”I want you”, he said, suddenly. ”I really do.”

Brienne felt a wave of embarrassment rise inside her. She couldn’t believe this was happening, _again._

”If you’re here to mock me I suggest you leave”, she said sourly.

”Mock you? What do you mean?”

”If I’ve offended you in any way I am sorry. There’s no need to mock my appearances to have your revenge.”

Tormund didn’t understand. He just stared at her, with that intense green gaze that she feared. 

In her younger years a handful of boys had done just like him. Spoken of their desire towards her, only to disappear around a corner and laugh with their group of noble little friends. She wondered when he would leave, and whom he was to giggle with about it later. 

”Stupid woman”, he said slowly, while rising to his feet again. He leaned in, with his head tilting up towards hers. Brienne pushed him away, more nervous than afraid. 

”What are you doing?!”, she blurted out.

”Will you shut your mouth for five seconds and stand still?”, he asked as he placed his palms around her face. ”I don’t bite, _milady.”_

Tormund leaned in towards Brienne, holding her face in the palms of his hands, and placed his lips on hers. Brienne could feel her heart racing. She didn't know if she was to push him, fight him off, or to embrace it. So she conceded, and stood still. It was a gentle kiss, but as their eyes met when it had passed, it was evident that both yearned for more. Tormund could feel her heart beating beneath her garments, and his only desire was to tear them all of. If she’d been one of the Free Folk, maybe he would have. But he realized quickly that this lady knight infront of him needed more time. She needs a gentle touch, he thought as he placed his hand at her waist. 

”You are the most striking woman I’ve seen”, he whispered as he slid is hand beneath her undershirt and slowly struck her skin. 

Brienne had felt tired before Tormund’s arrival in her chambers, now she didn’t know how she felt. She desperately tried to grasp the feelings she was experiencing, but most of them were new, and she didn’t have words for them. His coarse fingers explored her waist and her back, as she continued kissing him. Kissing him was nothing like she'd imagined kissing could be. It wasn’t messy, or wet, it was warm, and slow, and secure. Steady, just like his hand moving over the scars on her back. 

Finally she stepped back from him. She couldn't face him, suddenly deeply ashamed of what had just happened. Deeply ashamed of the fire growing in her belly.

”I think you should leave now”, she said. ”Sorry.”

”If that’s your wish”, he answered before slowly walking out of her room. She could feel his stare resting on her back as she closed the door. 

When she laid down in her bed that evening she felt ashamed and tremendously confused. But also strangely calm. A feeling she almost would have called relief.

 

The morning next day Brienne had her breakfast early so she could be alone. Podrick was up as well, but she didn’t mind him. They ate in silence, there was no need for uncomfortable small talk between them. After breakfast Brienne and Podrick both dressed in their armor, they had agreed to practice Pod’s swordsmanship in the courtyard of Castle Black. He was getting better, slowly, but Brienne could still easily get an upper hand in battle. She was truly happy then, with sword in hand. There was nothing like a fight to take the mind off of current thoughts.

”You let your guard down constantly!” she told her squire after having yet again disarmed him. ”You have to be consistent Podrick, or else you’ll die in a matter of minutes.”

Suddenly, she felt someone grab her from behind, and raising a knife to her throat. She could not move, and felt panic set in. She suddenly wondered if the Boltons had made their way into the Castle during the night. 

”So should you, woman.”

She understood at once who it was.

”Let me go!” She shouted at Tormund. ”This is not an honorable way to fight Podrick, do not listen to this man!”

Tormund chuckled as he released her from his hold. Brienne felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, nervous because of what had happened the night before.

”Who cares about honor when there’s a Thenn invading your camp?”, he said. ”He might steal your wife away from you, and eat your children, boy!”

”Eat your children?” Podrick asked in shock. 

”You’ve never seen a Thenn have you? You know nothing of what goes on behind that large wall", Tormund glanced towards the Wall. "I fucking hate Thenns.”

”Do they really steal women?”, Brienne asked.

”All free folk do”, Tormund said while looking at her. ”We steal the woman we want as our wife. She may put up as much of a fight as she wants to though.”

”That’s terrible”, Brienne frowned.

”What? More terrible than marrying a woman only because of who her father is? Or how pretty she looks in a silk dress? More terrible than what happened to Jon's sister, being sold to some monster, without a fair chance to fight him?” Tormund walked up to her, and looked right into her eyes.

”We choose a woman who can fight by our side, and seems fit to bear children. Not someone who can sew, or draw, and does things only to please”. 

Podrick laughed as he walked away. Brienne could not look into Tormund’s eyes. Those green, intense, terrifying eyes.

”Now, I’m not sure if you should look so pretty in a silk dress. But you are one of the best fighters I’ve seen.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne tells Tormund about a certain southron man she once knew. Tormund is angry.

Weeks later, new banners had risen at Winterfell. True banners. Those of house Stark. Jon Snow had been declared King in the North, and Winterfell had become a lively place once more by the time Brienne and Podrick arrived. Both were tired after their long journey from Riverrun, their legs chafing from too many hours on horseback. But both were relieved, and happy to finally be safe once more. 

”Woman!” Brienne knew the voice instantly as she came riding into Winterfell. 

”You’re still with us”, Brienne said to Tormund, suddenly aware of a flutter in her stomach.

”I am. So are you. I'm glad”, he said with a smile.

His nose broken, and his face swollen and shifting in colors from green to yellow to deepest purple. Brienne felt relieved to see him alive, but she wouldn’t tell him so. She dismounted her horse and left Podrick to tend to them. Tormund reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. He desperately wanted to touch her, but the memory of her scowl before leaving Castle Black made him take his hand back. 

She reached out and touched his cheek. ”Your face.”

”It’s nothing”, Tormund said, looking proud as ever.

”You fought bravely.”

”Aye. But we wouldn’t have won if not for that silly looking little man with the dress.”

Brienne knew he spoke of Littlefinger. She was glad of the victory but didn’t agree with Sansa’s choice of ally. 

”Bet he has the smallest pecker that one”, Tormund whispered in her ear and she couldn't help laughing. It was the first time he made her laugh. Tormund felt a warmth inside of him, as if his many injuries didn’t hurt anymore. 

 

* * *

 

Brienne had met with Sansa and Jon and congratulated them on their victory. She kneeled before them, and swore her sword to them both. She swore to protect them in the long winter and for the many nights to come. She returned to her new chambers with a lightness in her step, for the first time in months. She wasn’t likely to be ordered on a journey for at least a while, and she felt comfortable and calm in her new home. She had started to unpack when her door opened.

”I missed you woman”, Tormund said from behind. 

”I am glad to see you alive, Tormund”, she said to him. And she was honest. During her and Podrick’s journey from Riverrun her thoughts had many times drifted to the wildling man. She wondered if he had survived, and feared that he hadn’t. 

”You didn’t miss me then?”, he walked closer up to her. ”Not at all? Not the smallest bit?” He stood inches away from her face. 

”Maybe a little”, she conceded. 

Tormund’s presence in her chambers made her thoroughly uncomfortable. She _had_ missed him. But she feared the intimacy he appeared to seek in her. She didn’t know him, and she didn’t trust him. The memory of their kiss made the flutter return to her stomach. But also it brought an intense feeling of shame with it. How could she have let him kiss her? 

Tormund smiled, and reached for her face but she turned away quickly enough to not give him the chance to touch her.

”I must tell you something. We have to understand each other”, Brienne said, her tone cold and short.

”What’s that?” Tormund felt nervous again. Like he had ever since she had left for Riverrun. Nervous that she shouldn’t return. 

”My armor. And this sword”, she started speaking while gripping Oathkeeper. ”… was gifted to me by a man.”

Tormund looked at her with his eyebrows raised. 

”He was kind to me, kinder than he had to really”, she said quietly, a faint smile on her lips. 

”So?”, Tormund’s brow had furrowed and his words had sounded questioning, like he feared where the conversation was heading. 

”I…”, Brienne bit her lip. She was unsure as to how to continue. Nervous that she had misunderstood Tormund’s intentions towards her. ”…feel very strongly for him.”

Tormund felt his hopes leaving his body, flying away like a raven from it’s cage. He hesitated. 

”What man?”, he asked. 

”You don’t know him”, Brienne said. ”He was Catelyn Stark’s prisoner and I was assigned to take him to King’s Landing a long time ago.” 

”Do you love him?”, Tormund suddenly asked her and Brienne could feel her face turning pink and warm. 

”I…w-well”, she stuttered. The conversation had taken a turn which pained her. It wasn’t a proper subject to discuss at all. But nothing about Tormund was proper, she realized. Nothing in his manners even suggested a knowledge of propriety.

”You fell in love with your prisoner?”, Tormund asked. ”Just like Ygritte.” 

Brienne didn’t know to whom he referred, but it wasn’t the time to ask questions. 

”It’s not that simple”, she said. ”He was kind to me. He saved my life.” 

”Oh…”

Brienne stood, head bowed down, feeling a sudden sadness in her heart. 

”I’m sorry Tormund.”

”You’re gonna marry him then?”

”No!”, she said suddenly. ”He doesn’t want me.” 

Tormund felt confused. 

”Then why do you give a fuck about him then? What kind of man can he be if he doesn’t want you?” Tormund sounded agitated, his eyes suddenly piercing her. He had grown angry. Angry with this Southron man who had stolen the heart of the woman _he_ loved. 

”I don’t know!”, Brienne said despairingly, arms in the air, and eyes tired. 

She sat down on the thick fur over her bed, her head buried in her palms. 

”You won’t have me then?”, he asked her, looking at her in a way that no one had before. Jaw clenching and with a deep frown, but still with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. As if he for one second couldn’t stop looking at her.

”I think you better leave”, Brienne said. 

* * *

 Tormund swore an oath to the pretty Lord Crow. Lord _Snow_ as people had began calling him. The King in the North. But Tormund would never kneel, Jon knew that. Tormund knew no king other than Mance Rayder, and he was long gone. There was a ceremony in the Great Hall, Sansa had insisted on it. Brienne put Oathkeeper steadily into the floors as she kneeled before her charges, alongside a number of men. Tormund had taken his place beside her, standing upright as the other’s bowed before their masters.

 ”You didn’t kneel”, Brienne said as they left the hall.

”Is that a question?” Tormund asked.

”How will Jon know that you’re true to him?”

The wildling burst out into a sudden laugh. He was never modest, Brienne thought. Not in anything. 

”True to the pretty Lord Crow?” he chuckled loudly. 

”Why not just kneel?” Brienne wondered with her brow furrowed, as usual. 

”My people aren’t kneelers. Never ’ave been. We choose our leaders, no-one inherits a title. Jon knows that I will fight with him when the time comes.”

”But here it is custom”, she said sourly. 

They hadn’t been on friendly terms ever since the night he had come to her chambers. The few words spoken between them since had been silent murmurs like ”will you pass the bread” or ”snowing again today”.

”I will never kneel before a man. I’ve heard of some men who likes that sort of thing, but it was never for me. For a woman on the other hand… I would quickly fall to my knees before a woman”, Tormund sighed. His language seemed to have grown even more vulgar since her declaration of her love for Jaime. Brienne could feel the color of her skin rising. For a brief moment she saw him standing before her, on his knees, slowly pulling down her breeches. She quickly had to push the thought away. Brienne wasn’t comfortable with the way he made her feel. Flustered and warm. 

Ever since the night he had kissed her, she had imagined him doing it again. The thought caused a heat to grow in her stomach. It was just as she had experienced during her bath with Jaime. Her earliest recollection of the feeling had been watching a young servant chopping wood in the courtyard outside her window at home in Tarth. The rain pouring down, and his shirt clinging to his chiseled muscles. She knew how lust felt. But feeling it for Tormund made her feel awkward and exposed. He had told her that he wanted her. Never had a man said that truthfully. Fighting was her own way of showing emotion. Rage was readily available to her. She understood it, and she knew how to control it, as well as how to summon it. Love was different altogether. She had believed herself to feel it for Renly, but that feeling was nothing compared to what she had experienced when leaving Jaime in King’s Landing. Still, the warmest sensation she had known for months was having seen Tormund’s face again after arriving at Winterfell. But it had been different from Jaime. Warm, confusing, and disturbing. Like swimming in larger waves than one could handle, or fighting a man one wasn’t sure to slay. 

* * *

 They all dined together in one of the smaller halls of Winterfell.

”Your sword, Brienne”, Jon Snow said. ”’tis Valerian Steel?”

”Yes, your Grace”, she answered between her mouthfuls of meat. Tormund sat across from her, silent, as he had become whenever she was around. 

”How did you come across it?”

”I’ve been meaning to tell you, your Grace”, she said.”And lady Sansa. But I didn’t wish to upset you.”

The room went silent. Podrick, Jon, Ser Davos and Sansa turned their heads toward hers. Tormund kept on biting into a piece of meat, juices pouring into his beard. 

”Two swords were forged from that of your fathers’”, Brienne said. 

”What?”, Sansa gave her a sour look, as she usually did when something didn’t please her.

”I was gifted one, to help me keep you safe milady”, Brienne turned her look toward Sansa. 

”By who?” Jon asked broodingly. 

”Jaime Lannister, your Grace.”

”The Kingslayer?” Jon asked. ”The man who probably was the one who pushed Bran out of a window?”, his voice sounded strained and his anger was evident by the look on his face. 

”Because he'd seen him… in bed with his own sister?”, Jon continued. 

Gossip travelled fast around Westeros, Brienne thought. She felt shame, she didn’t often, but now it prevailed. 

”It was my order from lady Catelyn to take him safely to King’s Landing”, Brienne continued. ”We were captured by the Bolton’s on our way, and Jaime saved my life more than once”, Brienne’s eyes now looking at Tormund, quickly, before looking away again.

Tormund stopped eating. He now knew of whom she had spoken. The man who had stolen her heart. 

”And he felt he had the right to give you our father’s sword?”

”It was meant as a gift, for keeping my oath to lady Catelyn, and to keep the Stark children safe in the future. Ser Jaime only saw it fit.” 

”That man is a Kingslayer, not a ser”, Jon stated. 

”I’m sorry your Grace, but ser Jaime killed the Mad King so he wouldn’t burn the entire city of King’s Landing to the ground!”, Brienne felt a wave of emotion. 

”Fucking southerners and their Mad Kings and Kingslayers”, Tormund suddenly spoke. ”And he fucked his own sister you said?”

Tormund looked at Brienne then, with the most disgusted face she had ever seen. His feelings where always so obvious, never hidden. 

In that moment Brienne became aware of how her life was going to be. She felt at home at Winterfell, and serving Sansa was the right decision, she knew that. But having to deal with the antagonistic wildling across the table would most likely prove a difficult task. Brienne wanted to fight him. She wanted to punch, and kick, and wrestle him. She wanted to cause him pain. But that wouldn’t have been proper, not at the dining table at least. She hid her emotions the best she could, clenching her fist under the table, and biting into an other piece of meat, hiding the scowl that had started appearing on her face.

 


End file.
